


I'll Go on Dates with Pretty Girls

by persephassax



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, Feels, M/M, Porn, so many feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:45:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephassax/pseuds/persephassax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur looks very pretty in a dress. Merlin loves him anyway. [From the kink meme.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Go on Dates with Pretty Girls

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was referred to as the "8 pages of porn'n'feels" to all my friends. Proceed with that in mind. It took from June last year til now to complete. At 5100+ words, it is the longest thing I have ever written. And it's half-porn. Thank you internet. The title comes from [this ASW](http://asofterworld.com/index.php?id=45). Enjoy! (Also I have no beta, so string me up for all my mistakes if you like. Or just point them out in the comments and I'll fix 'em.)

_Arthur watches Morgana at his father's annual Christmas Party. She moves amongst the older investors and their wives, outshining all their daughters, her dress tight under her breasts, pulled taut across her ribcage, clinging to her hips before swirling around her thighs. Later, she's running in the back garden with Mordred and she spins, laughing, her hair fanning around her, and her skirt flying up and out, her skin pale in the moonlight, her legs going on forever. He straightens his shoulders, and pulls down his suit jacket. He feels stiff and confined. He smiles at his father, and when Uther looks away, he loosens the tie, unable to keep it tight at his throat the way his father does without feeling like someone is garrotting him._

Merlin opened the door to the smell of peppers and green beans and squash, picking out each scent, and letting the smell of them cooking together in a pan wash over him. He inhaled the smell of roasting vegetables and exhaled a grin. He set his bag down by the door and leaned over to untie his shoes before toeing them off and leaving them almost next to his bag. He slid off his light jacket and hung it up on the rack before making his way towards the kitchen in stocking feet.  
Arthur smiled as he felt hands wrap around his waist and Merlin's cold nose press into his neck. He squirmed away.  
"Watch out or I'll smack you with the spatula! You know I will!" Merlin laughed and squeezed quickly before letting go. Arthur watched over his shoulder as he made his way over to the refrigerator, where he pulled out the horrible grapefruit juice he liked so much and made his way to the drainer to get a glass.  
Merlin took a deep drink, letting the tartness of the juice roll over his tongue. It was perhaps a little cool outside still, to be drinking cold juice but it was refreshing. He smacked his lips. As he walked past Arthur on his way to put the juice back, he smacked him on the bum. His skirt fluttered as he jerked in surprise.  
"Christ, Merlin! Not while I'm cooking, alright? These clothes are nice and I'd rather not have to take them to the cleaners to get grease out of them!" Arthur's voice held that note of irritation that said that he really was not amused.  
"Sorry, Arthur. It was just so tempting. Anyway, isn't that what your apron is for?" Arthur's apron proudly declaimed, "Kiss the cook" in a bold red, sans-serif font. Arthur glared at the flip comment.  
"I won't do it again, Arthur. Promise." Merlin did his best to sound as sincere as possible.  
"I doubt that, but what does it matter. You're incorrigible."  
"What else is on the menu?"  
Arthur turned back to his vegetables.  
"There's some chicken in the oven, but if you were bothering to use that sense of smell you're so proud of, you would know that," Arthur picked up the pan and tossed the vegetables before pushing them around with the spatula, "Set the table, would you?"  
"Not like I don't every night, you prat."  
Arthur grinned.  
Merlin took out two plates from the cupboard, got the cutlery out of the drawers, and made his way around the kitchen island to the table. He laid out the sets, the plates, the forks and knives, and, in an inspired finishing touch, used the matches lying on the table (there from the last trip to Arthur's favorite bar, on his birthday, a month ago) to light the candles that had been acting as a center piece.  
Arthur leaned back against Merlin when he felt those lanky arms around his middle again.  
"Have I told you you look lovely, yet?" Merlin's breath caressed his ear.  
"Mmmm, I don't think you have."  
"Well, you do."  
He abandoned the spatula on the counter to turn around and slide his arms around Merlin's neck before pressing their lips together.  
Merlin felt Arthur's finger carding through his hair, tilting his head so he could get better access to his mouth. He grinned at Arthur's usual pushiness in this (as in all things) and followed Arthur's lead. He let his hands drift down until he was palming Arthur's arse through the fabric of his skirt. It was the nice white cotton one with the silk slip underneath. His right hand followed Arthur's spine up until it was splayed between his shoulder blades, the silk of his his floral print top smooth and cool under his fingertips.  
Arthur pulled away.  
"If the vegetables burn you'll have no one to blame but yourself, Merlin. Go keep yourself occupied while I finish, alright?"

_Arthur eats his food quietly, while Uther rebukes Morgana for watching a drag show on television, telling her that faggots like that aren't real men and she shouldn't support that kind of deviant lifestyle by watching their raunchy shows. He listens as Morgana rages at his father calling him a close-minded bigot before storming upstairs, undoubtedly to call Gwen and complain about her repressive father figure with his unenlightened views of the world. He sits, pushing his peas around his plate, thinking guiltily of the flowing, brightly patterned skirt hanging in the back of his closet. A cheap, flimsy piece of fabric, only long enough to hang to mid-shin, and his most prized possession. He sits quietly at the table across from his father and tries to swallow through the shame._

When the chicken and the vegetables made their way onto plates and the plates found their way to the table, Arthur sat down and called Merlin in to eat from where he had wandered into the living room to sort through the paper. He made his way to the kitchen table, his expression going pleased at the sight of the browned bird sitting proudly, legs sticking into the air, on the table.  
As Merlin sat down Arthur came in, two wine glasses in one hand and a bottle of Merlot in the other.  
"You sort this out while I carve the chicken, alright?" he asked Merlin, handing him the wine opener and setting the bottle down in front of him.  
"Only if you promise to take your apron off while we dine," Merlin grinned up at Arthur, taking the bottle opener from him, letting his fingertips drag over the back of Arthur's hand.  
Arthur rolled his eyes.  
"Of course, I'm going to take my apron off. After I carve the chicken. It's like you don't understand the concept of taking precautionary measures to keep one's clothes clean," but his voice lost its edge as he picked up the knife and started looking the chicken over as he debated the best place to make the first slice.  
"Arthur, this is delicious," Merlin's words were mangled by the piece of chicken still in his mouth.  
"Must you speak with your mouth full?"  
Merlin swallowed and grinned cheekily at Arthur.  
"Sorry, darling. We weren't all brought up with manners fit to share a table with the Queen."  
"Ugh, I knew I never should have told you that story," Arthur said with a glare.  
"I still can't believe she told you to get your elbows off the table!"  
Arthur stopped cutting the piece of chicken he was working on and sent Merlin a deadpan look.  
Merlin just sent him a grin over the rim of his wine glass before taking a sip.  
The sound of cutlery moving on their plates was the only noise to fill the silence for some moments. Finally Merlin broke it.  
"What's the occasion for getting all dressed up? Tough day at the office?"  
Arthur let out a groan.  
"My father is being insufferable! He and Morgana are on the outs again because of Morgause," here Arthur made an indistinct frustrated noise, as he felt that while Uther was unreasonable, Morgause could be just as bad, "So he's got me running around trying to keep track of her, while I try to do my real job and then getting mad at me when I fall behind in it. Then on top of that Lance skivved off coming to play footie with us again because he and Gwen needed to find curtains that matched the dog or something stupid like that, so we didn't have enough people and had to play 4 on 5 and got our arses handed to us. And then Gwaine is trying to get everyone to go on a pub crawl this weekend like we're still bloody 20 years old!"  
"So, everything's been going just swimmingly I take it?" Merlin raised a sardonic eyebrow.  
"Basically. Ugh. I just want to stay here until next month when maybe everyone's decided to just behave themselves," Arthur shook his head and turned back to the food on his plate, "Especially Morgana and father. Why must they always act like children? At least one expects it from Gwaine."  
Merlin kicked Arthur lightly on the ankle and sent him a smile when he looked up.  
"Hey. Don't worry about it. Here it's just the two of us. And you look absolutely stunning. And everyone knows that people who look as good as you don't need to worry about a thing."  
Arthur's face softened at the compliment.  
"Of course."  
Merlin's eyes darkened, and he tipped his chin down and sent Arthur a dirty look.  
"Speaking of how good you look. I think I'm rather done here..."  
Arthur was out of his chair practically before Merlin's had stopped scraping across the floor.

_Arthur is standing in front of his father, Merlin's long-fingered hand clasped in his wider one. He keeps his head up and meets his father’s eyes, like he's facing down a wild beast and needs to prove his fearlessness to it. Merlin's hand squeezes his, and he hangs on tighter, like a lifeline, the only concession he'll make to the fear roiling in his gut. Uther stares impassively at him.  
"Yes, Arthur? What is it?" the words are whip-cracks in the oppressive silence of the room. Arthur finds himself suffocating under in his father's dismissive impatience. Merlin lets go, abruptly, and Arthur finds himself panicking, floundering in his absence. His voice, with its Welsh vowels, is deceptively genial.  
"I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm Merlin, Arthur's boyfriend."  
Arthur watches him smile at his father, his hand outstretched, fearless in the face of the man who's opinions made Arthur lose sight of himself before he'd even caught a glimpse.  
"Was that all, Arthur? I'm a busy man," Uther gives Merlin a cursory glance and then dismisses him. Arthur feels his jaw clench.  
"Yes, Father. That was all."  
It's only Merlin's arm around his waist as they walk through the door of the office that keeps him from collapsing to his knees then and there._

Merlin's long fingers gripped hard at his waist, the always unexpected strength of his long, lean arms keeping him in place while Merlin fitted himself snugly up against his back. Arthur shivered as Merlin's lips brushed against the shell of his ear.  
"I can't wait to get on my knees for you. I love the way you wear white, all I can do when I see you in it is think of all the dirty things you let me do to you. You talk about stains and dry cleaning and I want to make you stain the front of your skirt. I just––"  
Arthur cut him off with a kiss. Their lips slid together, Arthur's soft, Merlin's lightly chapped. Merlin's shudder ended with a little moan of protest as Arthur ran the tip of his tongue along the roof of his mouth before pulling away. He kissed up his jaw, nipping every other kiss or so, all the way to Merlin's ear.  
"Race you to the bedroom."

_Arthur takes a deep breath. He feels some of the tension he's been carrying around all week leave him. He smiles slightly at the feel of the satin dress brushing his calves. It's his favorite (only) dress. Satin was always Morgana's fabric of choice and he imagines himself like her, spinning in the kitchen. He laughs at himself; he's too old for that kind of make-believe. He smooths the bodice of the dress, appreciating the way it clings to his ribs before falling down and away to swirl around his legs. The kettle whistles and he picks it up to pour it into the mug waiting on the counter.  
He hears the front door of the flat open and goes still in surprise. The hot water fills the mug and spills over, flooding the counter and dripping over onto the floor.  
That's how Merlin finds him; green satin swirling around his legs, hot water all over the counter and the floor, creeping towards his bare feet, looking towards the kitchen door with a peculiar, inscrutable expression._

In the bedroom Arthur looked down at Merlin from his perch on the edge of the bed. Illuminated only by the light spilling in from the hallway, half his face was in shadow; one eye sparkling with lust and mischief, half a smirk visible playing on his lips.  
Merlin's spidery hands ran up Arthur's thighs, running over and through the hair, up under his skirt until he could slip his fingers under the elastic leg holes of his briefs, to pet the soft tender flesh where thigh met pelvis. Arthur's hips hitched upwards into the touch and a hint of teeth showed in Merlin's smile.  
"Come on, come on, please, Merlin," Arthur's voice was rough with anticipation. He let out a groan when Merlin's tongue darted out to wet his lips as his gaze slid from Arthur's face to the erection ruining the fall of his skirt.  
"Lift up," Merlin slid his fingers out of Arthur's briefs, letting them drag, making him shiver and his hips twitch again. Suddenly those long, nimble digits were at the top of his underpants, slipping in and tugging, "Lift up, lift up!"  
Arthur leaned backed, pushing up on the balls of his feet, the muscles in his legs tightening on either side of Merlin's head, pushing his hips up as Merlin pulled down his underwear. He groaned at the slide of fabric over his cock, his skirt falling back into place, framing his erection obscenely.  
Merlin got Arthur's pants to his calves, letting gravity do the work to let them scrunch around his ankles, before practically pitching forward to nose Arthur's skirt up his thighs. He fit his head under Arthur's skirt, lapping at the skin at the insides of his thighs, the slightly coarse against his tongue. Before nosing again, this time against Arthur's balls, letting the smell of his sex wash over and into him. He opened his mouth, licking at Arthur's scrotum, letting the musk unfurl on his tongue, before closing his lips around one and sucking.  
Arthur moaned at the feel of Merlin working over his balls, making his way to the base of his cock with his mouth. The sight of his boyfriend, still dressed from work, with his head disappearing up Arthur's skirt, was pornographic. The feel of that mouth licking and kissing its way around the base of his cock, the licking and the movement of those lips becoming more pronounced as they moved up the shaft, before closing around the head, where Merlin proceeded to suck while running the tip of his tongue over the crown, repeatedly, refocusing Arthur's attention on what Merlin was doing.

_Arthur looks at Merlin in shock.  
"What are you doing here?" he feels his face settle into a glare, "You're not supposed to be home for another two hours!"  
Merlin stares back; his face is the picture of shock: eyes wide, brows up, mouth open in an "o".  
"And stop gaping. It makes you look like an idiot."  
Arthur turns his back on Merlin to glare at the spread of water on the counter and the floor.  
"Arthur, what––?"  
Arthur whirls around, drawing himself up big like he does before a football match or when he goes to face his father.  
"What, Merlin?"  
Merlin just stares at him, eyes roving his face, looking for something. Arthur can feel the tension coiling under his skin.  
"Well?" he's aware how close he is to bellowing, to looking like his father, face flushed in anger. But he can't stand Merlin looking at him like this, like he's some kind of stranger.  
He spins back around, grabbing the dishtowel, he puts it down on the puddle on the counter.  
"FUCK!" he clutches his burned fingers. He hunches his shoulders, drawing in on himself, he can feel his face scrunching up as he fights the against the tears pooling beneath his eyelids.  
He feels long, deceptively thin fingers close around his wrist and he lets himself be led until he's leaning against Merlin's warm, wiry body, one of Merlin's big, thin hands resting on the back of his neck, the slightly rough pad of his thumb rubbing soothingly back and forth against his nape.  
"You've been so stressed this past week with your father and work and everything, so I though I'd come home early and surprise you. I thought we might cook dinner together and then watch something on the telly. And I came home and here you are and you're so angry. Arthur, what's wrong?" Merlin's voice is soothing and Arthur lets himself lean a little more into the safety and calm surrounding his partner.  
"Merlin. Merlin! I'm wearing a dress," his breath is hitching and his voice strangled and he pulls back to look Merlin in the eye._

Merlin's sucking, his tongue running up the underside of Arthur's cock, were heavenly. Arthur hitched up his skirt until Merlin's dark hair came back into view. He opened his eyes, they had gone closed in concentration and pleasure, and looked up at Arthur, lips still spitslick and stretched around his dick. He cocked an eyebrow. Arthur couldn't help but reach out and trace it with a shaking fingertip, before running his fingers through Merlin's thick, dark locks, for which he was rewarded with an extra hard suck which had him jerking his hips forward, his head thrown back in pleasure, his fingers tightening, unconsciously fisting the hand he had in Merlin's hair.  
Merlin pulled back, licking the head a few times, before wrapping his lips around it, tonguing the slit.  
"Merlin, Merlin!" Arthur tugged on his hair, "Merlin, I need you to kiss me. I need you naked. Come on."  
He pulled off, eyes dark, looking torn about which demand to acquiesce to first. Arthur shivered at the loss of Merlin's mouth, but bent over to meet Merlin halfway. Their lips caught and they moved against one another. Merlin fumbled at his trouser button, while Arthur's hands framed his face, bringing them together again and again.  
Arthur just caught a hint of a taste of himself on Merlin's lips. He slipped his tongue out to run against Merlin's lips, whose mouth split open in a hot breath, his tongue coming to run alongside Arthur's. He sat back, pulling Merlin up, who pushed down his trousers and his underwear, stepping out of it as he followed Arthur onto the bed.  
He let Merlin guide him, eyes closed, lips occupied, fingers fumbling with Merlin's shirt buttons, until he lay against the pillows, Merlin bearing down on him, shirt hanging open, pale chest on display with is pebbled, rosy nipples and small, dark patch of hair. He looked him over, running his hands over Merlin's shoulders, feeling the smooth skin under the soft cotton of the shirt. He pulled him down again, fitting his mouth over Merlin's, one hand splayed on his cheek, and the other gripping a bony shoulder.  
Arthur could hear him fumbling for something on the bedside table. He heard the cap snap off the tube of slick and he chased Merlin's lips as he pulled back to sit up. He was a silhouette, backlit by the hall light, Arthur watched his pointy elbows move through cloth, gone see-through in the light, as he poured lube onto his hand, slicking up his fingers. He watched as Merlin raised himself up onto this knees, watched his shoulders shift back as he brought a hand behind himself and--  
Arthur fumbled for at the bedside lamp. He caught the chain and pulled, illuminating Merlin's flushed cheeks and concentrated, rapturous expression as he worked a finger inside himself.

 

_"And you look lovely," Merlin's voice is soft and his thumb is still rubbing soothing circles on Arthur's nape, and Arthur goes completely still. And suddenly he finds he can't hold himself in check anymore and his muscles go limp in the wake of the shudder that runs through him and he can feel tears sliding down his cheeks and he has no way of stopping them. The tense knot of fear and constant vigilance that always ruined the joy of the silk frock coming undone in his chest and Merlin is the only thing holding him up._

Merlin's breath hitched as he slid another finger into himself. Arthur was spread out before him like a feast, like an indolent golden god, his cock hard and leaking over the teasingly innocent flower print of his skirt, his thin shirt sweated through, pulled tight across his chest, nipples and chest hair on display. Merlin worked a third finger in, pushing his hips back to meet his hand. His eyes slid shut at the feel of Arthur's large hands sliding up his naked thighs. He eeked forward on his knees, bunching up Arthur's skirt as he positioned himself over Arthur's cock. He could already imagine Arthur's complaints about having to iron it back into a wearable state and the thought brought a smile to his face. He imagined he looked foolish, practically drunk, kneeling over Arthur, his fingers in his arse, his cock hard and jutting out in front of him like some sort of obscene Ancient Greek statue, and a wide smile on his face that Arthur routinely reprimanded him for sporting.  
"God, Merlin, hurry up," Arthur's voice was ragged, his hands had trailed up Merlin's thighs to his hips where they had wrapped around them, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of Merlin's pelvis. His right hand kept going, after giving Merlin's hip another squeeze, to rub low on Merlin's stomach, fingers running over and through the hair leading down to his groin. He dug his fingers into the slightly soft flesh, there, listening to Merlin's panting breaths give way to breathy moans.

_"Hey, hey!" Merlin goes to pull back, but when Arthur almost falls over without him, he moves back in close, wrapping his arms tight around Arthur, one around his shoulders, his long fingers warm against the skin of Arthur's arms, one around his waist, his fingers rubbing against the green silk. The feel of those fingers over the silk makes Arthur shudder again, and the tears flow with a new ferocity. He can hear his own breath hitching and he hasn't cried like this since he was a child, sitting in his bed, alone in the dark, afraid that there was no one in the whole world who loved him.  
"Arthur?" The question is soft where Merlin's lips brush against Arthur's ear.  
"I was so afraid for so long," Arthur's voice is hoarse, the confession spilling out of him along with the tears, "Merlin, it was so lonely."  
And Merlin's arms pull him closer and tighter into Merlin's skinny warmth, and he says, "I know."  
Arthur's breath hitches.  
"I know, now."_

Merlin's fingers slid out of his body and his eyes slid halfway open and he didn't remember closing them. Arthur, pupils blown big and black, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-red, his whole mouth dark, open, panting, his strong arms, strong hands grasping Merlin, holding Merlin. He fell forward as he brought his hips down, one hand guiding, holding Arthur’s cock in place. He panted against Arthur’s sweat slick neck, “God, darling, you’re beautiful.” And pulled himself back up on and onto Arthur’s cock.

_“It was Morgana,” Arthur says. Merlin looks up from the funny pages in the paper. “What?”  
“The dresses. It was Morgana.”  
Merlin stares at him a little longer. His face confused until his brain seems to catch up with the conversation.  
“Did she used to force you into them? Are you acting out some kind of childhood trauma?” Merlin’s voice is almost carefully blank, the curiosity, the incredulity hidden away.  
“No, I was,” Arthur stops, “I hated everything about what I had to do. Who I had to be.” Arthur looks up to find Merlin watching him quietly. Arthur looks down at his feet.  
“Morgana was always strong and free and she was so beautiful...”_

Arthur felt that tight, slick heat engulf him and he arched his back, pushing up and up and up into it, wanting more even though he was buried to the hilt. Merlin, above him, flushed, panting, letting out little moans as he hitched his hips slightly building to a rhythm, little tiny circular motions of his hips, drawing Arthur out, he felt possessed. Merlin’s eyes, boring into his eyes, blue, pupils blown, straight white teeth pressing into a kiss-reddened, plump lower lip, and Arthur knew that this man owned him.  
“So beautiful, Arthur, so beautiful,” Merlin’s voice was low and hoarse with pleasure, the words mumbled and almost incomprehensible, murmured like the well-worn utterance of a familiar prayer.

_“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice is soft, and Arthur hears the rustle of the paper being set down, probably on the coffee table, but he doesn’t look up from his careful examination of his feet in their old, white socks.  
“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice comes again, closer this time, and now Merlin’s long, naked toes come into view, the tendons tense and relax as he shifts to stand in front of Arthur, casting shadows on his alabaster skin, underneath the black hairs that litter the tops of his arches, and at the base of his big toes, “I don’t care where it comes from. I don’t care why you do it, if it was Morgana or your father or finding your mother’s dresses as a little boy. You don’t have to justify it to me, because I know you’re beautiful Arthur. And if that’s what helps you feel it, then I’m happy.”  
Merlin tilts his face up and the familiar feeling of Merlin’s long fingers stroking over the skin of his face, stroking over his cheekbones comes once more. And he can feel his eyes going hot, and the wetness gathering there and he bites his lip like maybe that’ll make a difference, maybe it’ll make a difference this time. He pinches his eyes closed tight, and he knows he’s scrunching his face up unattractively and then he feels lips on the tip of his nose._

The hot, tight heat of Merlin’s body left Arthur feeling overheated, helpless under the pressure surrounding his cock and he brought his knees up behind Merlin, cradling him and using the leverage to push up into Merlin’s rolling motions, trying to urge him faster, faster, harder, anything, god. And Arthur felt the sweat pooling in his armpits, on his chest, in the hollow of his throat, the creases of his thighs, the backs of his knees... He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the heat of Merlin’s body around his cock spreading through him, til he was on fire, his breath coming in big heaving exhales and his body coiling tighter and tighter...!

_"Arthur," Merlin's voice comes behind him. He's standing at the stove, cooking dinner, because Merlin is hopeless in the kitchen, can't even boil water without burning it. "Arthur, turn the stove off and look at me. This is terribly important." A frisson of fear runs through him, and Arthur tries to remember if Merlin had a doctor's appointment today. He turns off the stove and spins to face him, one eyebrow raised in expectation, hoping he's managed to mask his trepidation.  
But Merlin is standing there a stupid smile trying to fight its way onto his lips, his hands clutching something with a large white corner that peeks out over his shoulder.  
"Come on, let's go to the dining room."  
Merlin leads the way with a big, white box. Arthur doesn't quite know what is going on, but his heart is pounding and he has hopes... He quashes them, because that disappointment would be too much._

Merlin felt the moment that Arthur let go, the slick heat inside his body, the way Arthur's face contorted, like he was dying, as if, up until this moment he had been experiencing the most unimaginable suffering and in this moment he was finally made free of it and the pain and the ecstasy were at war inside him. Arthur made a noise like it has been forced out of him, an exaltation, Merlin's name, and Merlin almost imagined that this was what Arthur would look like in his last moments; red and sweaty with exertion, with Merlin's name on his lips. And Merlin wrapped a hand around his cock and fisted it hard, giving himself an uncertain number of rough strokes, panting hard, before he came, flushed and sweaty himself, with a whimper of Arthur's name.

_“Open it,” Merlin whispers in his ear, box set out on the dining table in front of them, Merlin peering over Arthur’s shoulder, arms around his waist. Arthur’s heart is pounding. He lifts up the top of the box, and the light green tissue paper inside rustles and sends out a faint smell of perfume. He pushes it to the side, hearing it crinkle as his hands crush it. He catches sight of a flash of blue silk, catching the light on its folds and in the places it's been artfully pleated and he pulls it out of the box and it hangs from his shoulders to his shins and it'll go 'round his waist and he spins around and crushes the dress between their bodies and he throws his arms around Merlin and crushes their lips together._


End file.
